


The Boy With The Boots

by darkjaden825698



Category: Love Simon (2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, I really don't know what else to tag this as, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkjaden825698/pseuds/darkjaden825698
Summary: “I like your boots,” he’d said. Why did he say that? Jeff’s boots aren’t particularly special or anything. They’re just normal old work boots. He’s had them for a few months, wore them every day to work. So what was so exciting about them that that kid felt the need to comment on them, by shouting at the top of his lungs across the street?





	The Boy With The Boots

**Author's Note:**

> I'M ALIVE. I know I haven't posted much of anything recently. May was kind of a difficult month. I'm still writing, sort of. I dunno, I'm trying. Hopefully finishing this will spark something and I'll get more motivation to write!
> 
> I wanted to post this today because a big theme in this fic is coming out, and today is the first day of Pride Month! So yeah, here's the fic!

The rhythmic humming of the leaf blower’s engine rings in Jeff’s ears, even with the foam earplugs he has shoved into them. It’s early on a Monday morning, and he and his dad are already halfway done with the lands they have to scape today. As such, he’s a little tired, a little bored, and a lot _done_. He just wants to go back home and relax the rest of the day.

It’s not that he dislikes landscaping, or working with his dad. It’s actually a pretty chill job. They get paid under the table so there are no taxes, and if they do a decent number of lawns in a day, he’s looking to make about a hundred bucks a day. And for a 19-year old kid who lives at home with his parents rent-free, that’s really not too bad. They go all over town, even sometimes to the outskirts of Atlanta and other suburbs in the area, and they mow lawns, weedwhack, and so on and so forth.

The weather is starting to get cooler, and the leaves have begun to change colors and fall off the trees. So it’s usually a good idea to blow or rake the leaves into a pile and bag those up before mowing the actual lawn. Hence why Jeff has the leafblower out. And it’s why, over the hum of the engine, he almost doesn’t hear somebody talking behind him. Rather, shouting behind him.

He definitely hears a voice, but he can’t make out any of the words over the loud, constant noise of his equipment. He turns around and sees a boy, younger than him, though not by much, he assumes. He’s got brown hair and a dorky smile, and is wearing a bluish gray zip-up hoodie, unzipped. This kid is the epitome of “awkward nerd,” but with the boyish charm of a child actor. He’s smiling and waving at him, but Jeff still can’t hear what he’s saying. With a furrowed brow, Jeff cups his hand to his ear and shakes his head at the boy, eyebrow cocked.

“I like your boots!” he manages to hear.

_Umm, thanks?_ he thinks. There’s no use shouting back at him. He wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway. Jeff returns to tending to the monotonous job of blowing leaves around. He jumps slightly when he hears the horn of the boy’s car behind him, but pays it no mind past that.

The boy’s car drives off, leaving Jeff finally alone and away from that holy awkwardness. But now that he’s alone with his thoughts, Jeff finds his mind wandering back to the awkward boy from across the street.

“I like your boots,” he’d said. Why did he say that? Jeff’s boots aren’t particularly special or anything. They’re just normal old work boots. He’s had them for a few months, wore them every day to work. So what was so exciting about them that that kid felt the need to comment on them, by shouting at the top of his lungs across the street?

Though, he has to admit, he did kind of like the attention. And as much as he hated to admit it, the kid was kind of adorable, with his messy hair and his babyface. He wasn’t Jeff’s usual type—he’s more interested in girls, usually—but he can’t help but smile at the thought that the kid had noticed him and complimented him.

He’s on Jeff’s mind the rest of the day.

\--

When Jeff finally gets home, he takes a nice long shower, turning the water cold right before he gets out to cool himself down. It may be mid-Fall, but the weather in Atlanta is still fairly temperate. Factor in his long day of hard labor, and the cold water against his back is a welcome feeling.

After his shower, Jeff plops himself down on his bed, not bothering to get dressed just yet. It’s nice having his own room. He’s moments away from taking a nap, but he decides to go on his phone and scroll down Creeksecrets.

He graduated from Creekwood last year, but the Creeksecrets blog will never stop being interesting to him. Just last week he found out that Becca Peterson gave Ryan O’Donovan a handjob in the school pool, and they got caught by one of the teachers. Jeff doesn’t know Becca Peterson or Ryan O’Donovan—probably freshmen, that seems like a freshman thing to do—but he still got a kick out of reading that. Even though he also felt bad for his buddy Brian on the swim team.

Who gives a handy in the pool though? That doesn’t seem like the best place to do it. At least go into the locker room where you can nab one of the shower stalls, if you’re really into doing it in water or something.

He scrolls down the blog checking out all the cringey love confessions from straight boys, the rather disgusting pictures of pubic hair on a toilet seat, the anonymous callout posts to problematic teens. (Who knew that Adam Arnold was a pedophile because he’s 17 years old but his girlfriend’s only 16 and a half!) But eventually he comes across a post that seems to stand out, like a diamond in a haystack of pubic hair and shredded love letters.

For starters, there’s a picture, and it’s _not_ of pubic hair. It’s a rather well-shot photograph of a ferris wheel. Probably ripped off of Google Images or something, but it’s still a welcome change to the pubic hair. (Seriously why would you put that on the internet?) It’s also accompanied by a short paragraph.

> _Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long. Because a lot of my life is great, but nobody knows I’m gay._
> 
> _-Blue_

Jeff can kind of relate. He realized he was bi junior year around Halloween, when the football team was throwing a party, and Patrick O’Malley decided to show up in a speedo and claim he was Michael Phelps. Jeff couldn’t stop staring at his (expertly crafted, Jeff would admit) ass the entire party. And at one point, when everybody was pleasantly buzzed and half of the party had left, the remaining partygoers took a dip in the hot tub. And you would think, since Patrick was already wearing a Speedo, he was already adequately dressed for it, right? Well, apparently Patrick didn’t think so, because as soon as they’d all gotten in the tub and the jets started going, Patrick slipped off the speedo and chucked it into the yard, laugh his perfectly sculpted ass off. He neglected to realize however, that once the jets stopped, there was nothing covering his junk.

Jeff realized a lot about himself that night.

He still hasn’t come out to anybody, really. Especially not his dad. He doesn’t _think_ his dad would have a problem with it, but his dad’s always been a bit hard to read. Stoic. Even if his dad doesn’t mind it, he probably wouldn’t be thrilled.

Plus, there’s the fact that Jeff is an only child. If he ends up with a dude, that’s the end of the line for his family name, basically. And his parents don’t get any grandkids. Well, he could always adopt, but Jeff knows that to baby boomers that’s just not always the same.

So Jeff just kind of keeps his sexuality to himself. He figures it’s not that big of a deal; he could still end up with a girl anyway, and then there’d be no need to come out, right?

But it still feels kind of icky to be holding it back all the time. Like every time he thinks of a guy, his chest tightens and his throat closes up. It feels so wrong, so messed up, dirty. Jeff knows that it _isn’t._ There’s nothing wrong with being gay. Just look at Neil Patrick Harris or Anderson Cooper. They’re gay, and they’re happy and successful and shit.

And Jeff isn’t even gay, he’s bi. So what’s the big deal?

The big deal is that just because he’s bi, doesn’t make it any easier. In fact, it probably makes it harder. He had a friend, Jenny Lentz, who graduated a couple years back. She was bi, and she was always telling him that straight people always thought she was too gay and gay people always thought she was too straight. Which Jeff always thought was stupid. If you’re bi, you’re not straight and you’re not gay; you’re bi. Years later, Jeff has gained a newfound appreciation for Jenny Lentz.

The Creeksecrets post has an email address attached to it. Jeff considers contacting him for half a moment, but then decides it would be too weird to email a high schooler about being gay. Or bi. Or whatever. So he just likes the post and moves on.

\--

“You wanna handle the Spiers’ house today?” Dad asks as they pull up to the street.

“Sure,” Jeff says. _Spier_. So that’s the boy’s name. Well, last name at least. He tries not to feel like a creep when he pulls out his phone and types “Spier” into the search bar on Facebook. He gets a couple results, but only two of them are guys. Jack Spier, who is very clearly too old and chiseled to be the baby-faced boy he’s found himself enamored with, and Simon Spier, who appears to be Jack’s son. Simon. So that was his name. Simon Spier. He resists the urge to send him a friend request.

Jeff is just about to start the lawnmower when the front door to the Spier house opens, and the baby-faced boy, Simon, walks out of it, calling back in the house to his parents that he’s off to school. His eyes catch Jeff’s briefly, but neither of them say anything. Jeff starts up the lawnmower and starts down the lawn.

Almost half of section he’s been mowing is done when Jeff realizes Simon’s car hasn’t moved. Curious, he glances in and sees Simon staring down at his phone, looking perturbed. After another few seconds, he sighs and puts his phone back in his pocket, and turns the key in the ignition.

As he drives off, Jeff finds himself wondering what could have gotten him so tense.

\--

Months pass, and soon it’s finally Christmas Eve. While waiting for his mom’s special Christmas Eve dinner of honey roasted ham and cheesy mashed potatoes, Jeff scrolls through Creeksecrets. Among the slew of high school gossip he comes across a rather…bizarre post.

> _Dear fellow Creewood students,_
> 
> _Simon Spier has a secret male penpal. Because he’s gay. Interested parties may contact him directly to discuss arrangements for butt sex. Ladies need not apply. We should all probably be talking about this instead of Martin Addison’s homecoming debacle, which was actually kind of sweet and romantic if you think about it._
> 
> _Sincerely, Anonymous_

Oh. _Oh._

This is that kid from a couple months ago, the one who liked his boots. The one who Jeff couldn’t get out of his head for a while.

Normally, Jeff would have brushed something like this off as some kind of mean-spirited prank. Kids these days do that all the time. Being “gay” to them is equivalent to being the devil incarnate, so of course it becomes the insult of choice, and being called gay is worse than being told your girlfriend only dated you for three weeks out of pity before breaking up with you (Jeff is speaking from experience). But this post is accompanied by a mass of attachments, all of which appear to be shoddy cameraphone pictures of a computer screen. Emails, it looks like. They must be the consultations between Simon and the “secret male penpal.”

Jeff tries to resist the urge to look at the emails. They’re Simon’s personal emails to another boy; it would be a total invasion of privacy to look at them. But Jeff can’t stop himself, the words jump out at him from the screen of his phone. Unable to help himself, he taps on the first email.

> _Dear Blue, I’m just like you._

He reads through them. All of them. He’d told himself he would stop after just the first couple, but he just can’t stop reading. The exchange between Simon, under the pseudonym “Jacques,” and this person only going by the name “Blue” are honestly the sweetest thing Jeff has ever read.

> _I was just listening to that M83 song “Reunion” and it made me think of you._
> 
> _Is it weird that I have no idea what you look like, but I can’t stop thinking about kissing you?_

By the end, Jeff is near tears. It’s just so cute, the way they’ve been so innocently crushing on each other, getting to know each other over the course of these emails by just the common thread of their sexuality. It’s incredibly sweet. He swallows his emotions and makes himself seem normal in front of his family.

Jeff feels for the kid. His private, personal emails just made it onto Creeksecrets for the entire school—and a bit beyond, since Jeff no longer actually goes to Creekwood—to see. Emails that confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s…gay.

Simon Spier just got outed to the entire school.

He can’t even imagine what that must be like. Jeff isn’t out himself, even willingly, so being forcibly outed to everybody like that…God, it must be rough. Maybe he should email him? His email address _was_ posted on the internet for everybody to see. It might be nice to get a supportive email in a time like this.

Then again, if he gets an email to that account, he’ll probably be hoping for it to be from Blue, who may or may not still be messaging Simon at this point. If he gets a notification that a new message has arrived, and it’s not from Blue...Jeff doesn’t want to cause that kind of disappointment for him, at a time like this.

Jeff just reports the post and moves on.

\--

It’s been weeks since the anonymous Creeksecrets post about Simon. The weather is colder now, so there’s not as much need to mow the Spiers’ lawn, and Jeff hasn’t gotten much of a chance to see Simon. He wants to reach out, to just tell him he’s there for him, maybe give him his number. Not even as a flirtatious thing, just to be a friend. It seems like Simon could use one right about now.

But the few times Simon has come out while Jeff mowed his lawn, he never seemed to be in the mood to talk. And Jeff didn’t really want to bother him. So he just kept mowing, making only passing glances.

This continues for a few weeks, until one night, while Jeff is scrolling down Creeksecrets again (he really does have a problem, doesn’t he?), he comes across another interesting post.

And it’s signed, “Love, Simon.”

Jeff feels a surge of…something. Pride? He doesn’t know why he’s feeling so abruptly proud of Simon, this boy he’s had exactly one exchange with and has never _actually_ said a word to. In the beginning he thought Simon was cute, but maybe he’d just felt some kind of connection to him. They were both in the closet, and while that may not seem like much to have in common, that’s kind of huge.

So Jeff is getting the same kind of feeling when you watch your best friend’s absurdly good video project for school, or when your little brother scores the winning goal at his soccer game. He can feel it swelling up within him.

Simon’s post is all about owning up to himself and deciding not to hide anymore. He’s basically coming out of his own accord. He’s saying, “Fuck that anonymous person who outed me against my will. This is my thing and I’m going to do it my way.”

He also talks directly to Blue. After the school play Friday night (which Jeff is suddenly interested in seeing), he’s going to be at the carnival, on the ferris wheel, and he extends an invitation to Blue to show up, if he’s ready.

Jeff suddenly has plans Friday night.

\--

The famous Blue finally shows his face. He’s this tall black kid with curly hair and an uneasy smile. He seems half sure of himself, rightfully so. Coming out so publicly like this, it can’t be an easy thing. But Simon’s face lights up when he sees him.

“It’s you,” he remarks.

“It’s me,” Blue says back.

“It’s Bram,” sobs a girl a few feet away from Jeff.

They both get on the ferris wheel and ride it all the way to the top, where it stops gently. Jeff glances over at the ride operator, who was frowning just a few minutes ago, but is now wearing a sweet smile. He stopped the ride to give Simon and the other boy, Bram, a few moments alone, on top of the world.

They talk. Jeff can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can vaguely see their lips moving. And then they’re not talking anymore. Then they’re kissing. And everybody's cheering. Jeff joins in. He doesn’t know any more than these boys’ names, but he’s filled with an extreme sense of joy as they kiss.

The ferris wheel starts moving again, and Jeff is pretty sure when they hit the ground, neither of them will feel like they’re on rock bottom.

Jeff returns home that night with a newfound sense of purpose. He’s spent the entire drive practicing what he’s going to say in his head. Seeing Simon and Bram up there, kissing, broadcasting themselves to the world, coming out in such a public way, it sparked something in Jeff. A spark that grew into a flame in his chest.

Jeff decided to come out to his parents. Tonight.

The entire way home, Jeff is feeling confident. More than confident, actually. Bold. But by the time he pulls the truck into the driveway, he’s feeling a bit less so. The fire in his chest had dropped into his stomach and twisted it into knots. He was nervous. Maybe he shouldn’t do this.

No, he has to do this. Jeff only has to think of Simon and Bram to get reignited. He locks the car and walks into the house, feeling on top of the world.


End file.
